


How Lucky We Are

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: BDSM, Body Worship, Boot Worship, Dom!Eliza, Fluff, I don't even know how to tag this, Multi, No Sex, Nonsexual Submission, Praise Kink, he's a sub in this fic though, i guess?, maybe? - Freeform, sub!Alex, switch!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 12:06:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5927752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before they met Eliza, John dommed Alex. When Eliza isn’t around, he still does sometimes, because Alex needs it, and John still likes to play the role. He loves the way taking care of Alex makes him feel, and he loves the way Alex sounds when he’s desperate. Besides, he’d be lying if he says he doesn’t get off on the way Alex takes pain, just a little.</p><p>But when Eliza’s home? Well, it goes like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Lucky We Are

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't even know if this is any good tbh literally everything in here is new to me, I've never written any of it before, I'm a little panicked about posting this.
> 
> I hope no one is here looking for something super smutty because you're in the wrong place. This isn't hot. At least like I'm pretty sure it isn't. I don't know.
> 
> I think Alex might be a little OOC, and I feel like my next fic after this has to explore their darker sides (at least John and Alex, lbh Eliza was as pure a human as ever existed) because this is probably too sweet to be accurate. None of them has any edge. I don't know.
> 
> Ugh, I also totally threw in boot worship bc I love it, but like I don't even know if this fits here? Plus it's only a tiny bit, so whatever.
> 
> If I talk about this anymore, I won't post it. Hope y'all like it.
> 
> PS: thank you to writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle and their one person mission to lift the number of elams fics on ao3 above the number of jeffmads - sorry I've been contributing negatively to your goal thus far and will probably continue to do so because I'm jeffmads trash. please accept this apology.

 

 “Alex, honey.” Her voice is soft, but Alex hears something in it and he’s already gone pliant, looking up at her with those dark eyes warm in the soft kitchen light. “John’s going to carry you to bed. You look exhausted.”

Usually it takes a lot to tear Alex away from his work. Tonight all it takes is the tone in Eliza’s voice, and the weight of John’s hand on his shoulder. He stands up and wraps his arms around John’s neck, and John loves how much shorter Alex is. He almost has to come up on his toes to put his arms around John’s neck 

John clasps his hands to his opposite forearms making a little seat under Alex’s butt to lift him, and Alex’s legs wrap around his back automatically. He tucks his head into John’s shoulder and John sighs into his hair. He glances at Eliza when he’s got Alex in his arms and she smiles and makes a little waving motion.

“I’ll be in in a moment. Get him naked, John, and start prepping him.”

Alex mumbles something and grinds his hips against John’s belly. John can feel the very beginning of an erection, but mostly he can feel how warm Alex’s breathing is on his shoulder through his T shirt, and the weight of Alex’s body in his arms. It’s so comforting.

John smiles a little, and turns to walk to the bedroom, hitching Alex up a little higher on his waist when he starts to fall. He can hear Eliza humming to herself in the kitchen, plates clattering as she stacks dishes in the sink.

He gets to the bedroom, nudges the door open, and lays Alex down on the bed softly, enjoys the way his body looks entirely relaxed. It’s rare for Alex to relax like this, rarer still for him to do it without anything more than kind words and gentle touches. John discovered a harsher way to get him to calm down during college, when they were both too high strung for anything else, but Eliza has had, how to put it, a civilizing effect on both of them, and Alex sometimes goes soft and pliant with nothing more than gentle orders now.

John loves it. John loves them.

Eliza and Alex, Alex and Eliza. It feels like they are three parts of the same whole. Like even as he is kneeling at Alex’s feet to remove his shoes, he is also lying on the bed staring at the ceiling, and like he’s in the kitchen, feeling the tap water on his hands as he does the dishes. He knows them both, and he loves them like he loves himself. More than he loves himself.

He finishes with Alex’s shoes, moving slow as honey, peels his socks off too (Alex’s feet somehow never smell bad, and John envies him this), folds them into each other and places them into the right shoe. Then he sets them off to the side, taking care to line the toes up evenly.

He moves up Alex’s body to kiss him softly on the lips, loves the way Alex surrenders to him, his mouth open for John to lick into, not even struggling, perfect in his trust. John’s stomach clenches. Oh lord, does he love Alex.

His hand moves to the button of Alex’s jeans, unfastens them. He whispers, “Lift up for me, baby girl.”

Alex lifts his hips off the bed. John can feel the muscles in his back flex and release, and he relishes the feeling even as he slides Alex’s jeans and boxers down his body. Alex’s cock is soft again, relaxed as the rest of him, and John shouldn’t think that’s hot, and maybe he doesn’t really, he just loves it. He kisses the rough skin on Alex’s knee, and then the top of his thigh, one kiss in the dark curls at the bas of Alex’s cock, and then he straightens up again. He’s not trying to tease. He just wants Alex to know how loved he is.

Alex is smiling when John looks back at him, and John feels all melty, almost as pliant as Alex is. He recognizes the zoned out look in Alex’s eyes, recognizes the way he looks like he’s floating. John is familiar with the feeling, although he’s never been able to fall into it so easily as Alex does. This is perhaps even a new record for Alex, though, to drop into subspace with just a few soft kisses, gentle words, and the promise of Eliza’s humming in the kitchen. His cock hasn’t even been touched.

John breaks eye contact reluctantly, helps Alex sit up to slide his T shirt off, and finally, pulls the hair band out of his hair. Wasn’t like it was doing much anyway. Alex’s hair is as stubborn as he is, and it refuses to stay in place without product. (Or with product, really.)

John pulls of his shoes and belt, crawls up on the bed next to Alexander and sits cross legged. He fists his hands in Alex’s hair, loving the way the strands run like silk through his fingers. Alexander is so beautiful. John feels like he’s worshipping suddenly, like he doesn’t deserve the way Alex sighs at the feeling of fingers in his hair, or the soft tremors in his torso when John places the palm of the other hand on his ribs.

It’s at this moment that Eliza comes in, sees the two of them like this, Alexander sprawled out on his back, utterly blissed out, and John, staring at him like he’s a saint, and when John looks up at her, her face is blank, but her eyes are like melted chocolate, and as full of love as John has ever seen them. Eliza, he thinks, has more love in her pinky toe than most people have in their whole souls.

“Hey, Eliza. I didn’t get to prepping him yet.” John keeps his voice low, reluctant to break the silence, and Eliza shrugs.

“I don’t think we’ll go there tonight,” she says, without a hint of doubt in her voice, and John is in love with how quickly she can read situations, how well she knows them.

“Come over here.”

John removes his hands from Alex, plants a kiss on his stomach right above his belly button, and then stands up to walk over to Eliza. He’s taller than she is, and when he gets to her, he drops to his knees, to grant her the dominant position. She grins at him, says, “thanks,” in the softest voice he’s ever heard. He touches his mouth to her skirt, below the knee, in reply. It’s not even really a kiss, but he loves the way her fingers go into his hair when he does it.

“Take off my shoes.” She shifts her weight onto one foot, leaning up against the doorframe for balance, and lifts the other foot off of the wall. She’s wearing boots, the kind that lace all the way up, but they’re soft leather. John loves them for their enormous amount of laces, how they’ll guarantee him a few extra minutes kneeling here at Eliza’s feet.

He bends all the way over, almost bowing down, to kiss the toe of her boot, loving the feeling of soft leather under his lips. Greedily, he manages a few more open-mouth kisses along the instep, before she nudges her foot into his face, ever so slightly, to remind him of what he’s supposed to be doing.

Oh yeah.

Daring, he flattens his tongue onto the leather covering her ankle and licks up to the top of the boot where it stops mid-calf. Right as he’s about to pull away to unlace her shoes, he hears Alex moan softly from the bed.

He and Eliza both stop, look up at him. He’s flipped over at some point, lying on his belly, head cradled on his hands and turned to look at them. Eliza smiles and looks back down at John. “Come on, mouthy, hurry up, Alex feels lonely.”

He grins back at her and unties the laces of the first shoe quickly, slides it off her foot and sets it off to the side. She switches feet, and he does the other one just as quickly, but only after pressing one cheeky kiss to her calf at the very top of the boot. She rolls her eyes when he smirks up at her.

When she’s in her thick cotton tights, no shoes to speak of, she helps John up and they walk to the bed holding hands. “Can you sit up, sweetie?”

Alex groans petulantly, but does as she asks, pushing himself up to sit cross legs on the bed. He’s unashamed of his nudity, of his half hard cock, and John thinks it might have something to do with the drifty, far away look still in his eyes.

Eliza glances over at John, surprised. “He’s under already? What did you do?”

John shakes his head. “Just stripped him. I think he’s been needing this for a while. You okay, Alex?”

Alex doesn’t say anything, just makes these adorable little grabby hands at them, and Eliza and John sit down on either side of him immediately. Eliza runs one hand through his hair. After a moment, she says, “Take my sweater off of me, Alexander.”

John watches, content, as Alexander unbuttons Eliza’s cardigan slowly, one button at a time, starting at the top of the V-neck, inching his way down to the hem, fingers dragging over her lap unintentionally.

When it’s unbuttoned, he pushes it back off her shoulders, helps her slide her arms out of the holes, and folds it carefully. John loves the precision in him right now as much as he loves his usual scattered passion. He loves every version of Alexander. 

Eliza sits on the bed in her tank top, skirt, and tights. She inhales slowly. “Alexander, go get me a hair brush from the bathroom. John, strip down for me please.”

Alexander pushes himself off the bed, walks to the bathroom like he’s asleep. John loves how he moves when he’s under, loves the gentleness, the peacefulness. He remembers his own orders just as Eliza’s turning to him with a frown, and jumps up, already pulling off his hoody.

She watches him for a second before standing up too, and there’s a certain intimacy, John has noticed, in undressing next to someone. They’re aren’t going to fuck tonight, and they all know that. They’re just… undressing with each other. Baring themselves.

John finishes before Eliza does, and so he gets to watch her unclasp her bra and step out of her panties. He loves the revelation that comes with the reveal of her soft brown ass, the delicate skin of her upper thighs. It seems like every time he sees her naked is the first time. When she turns around and sees him looking, she swats his thigh with the back of her hand, laughing, and says, “Get my robe.”

John is all too happy to oblige.

He _loves_ Eliza’s robe. Not only does he love what she uses it for – the slight power trip that comes to her when she’s clothed and they aren’t, he and Alex, the way she sets herself above them just with that bit of fabric – he loves the robe itself, light blue and fleecy, warm and soft, smelling like sleep and a little like sex and a little like laundry soap. Like Eliza. 

He fetches it for her from the next room, and when he returns, Alex has come back, and he’s kneeling in front of her.

She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the hairbrush with one hand and Alex’s hand with the other. He’s smiling up at her like she’s everything. John loves them.

Eliza stands up to shrug into the bathrobe when John brings it to her, and then taps the floor next to Alexander to indicate where he can sit.

Even without words, the order is explicit, and John follows it. He’s rewarded when she says, “good boy,” lowly, making it true just by saying it.

It’s clear that his role in this venture is to cuddle with Alex without getting in Eliza’s way. Since he’s sitting between Eliza’s legs, back to her, John decides the best way to do this is probably just to nestle up as close to Alex’s side as he can, wrap his arms around him sideways. There isn’t much else he can do from this position.

Eliza lifts the hairbrush and brings it to the base of Alex’s hair. She knows what to do with hair, never tries to start at the top and drag down through all the tangles. She starts low and works her way up, always, making the hair brushing less like grooming and more like a meditation. Alex sighs into the feeling of it, and John can feel him relax further, almost slumping into John, who puts one hand behind him to balance the extra weight.

They sit like that for some time. Eliza begins humming again, some lullaby, or maybe a pop song, John can never tell, but it’s low and sweet, and fits perfectly with the soft golden lights and the tangle of bodies in the room.

The sound of the brush through Alexander’s hair is the only other sound, and Eliza keeps at it until Alex is half asleep. She finishes the hard part at the beginning, gets all the tangles out of the bottom, and then keeps going, running the brush in long strokes from the top of his scalp down to the tips where it brushes his shoulders, and following it with her open palm.

John follows the path of the hairbrush with his eyes until he gets too tired, and then he allows himself to fall still, loses himself in his thoughts. He wishes his own hair was brushable, but the slightest touch of a brush to the dry curls will leave a frizzy, unattractive afro for days on end, and he knows better than to try it, even if it looks so soothing that he thinks it might be worth it.

Instead, he contents himself leaning his head against Eliza’s knee and drawing small circles on the soft flesh of Alex’s belly.

John has almost fallen asleep when Eliza stops. It’s the lack of sound – she’s not humming or brushing anymore – that wakes him up more than anything. He looks up at her, and she smiles. “Help him up.”

John stands slowly, feeling himself creak from sitting on the floor too long, and Alex comes alive ever so slightly. John knows his face looks perhaps even more ridiculously fond than Eliza’s does when they watch Alex reach up to drag his hand through his newly soft hair and smile at the texture. John lifts Alex up bridal style from the floor and lies him in the bed that Eliza has opened up for them.

Alexander goes in the middle. He rolls over on his stomach after John sets him down, and they watch him fall asleep in a very final sort of way. Eliza giggles under her breath, and John loves her.

“Can I kiss you, Eliza?”

“I don’t know,” she says, and her smirk is devilish, “Can you?”

John sighs. “May I kiss you, Eliza?”

In response, she takes his face in both hands and kisses him so sweetly on his lips that he forgets how to breathe.

When they break apart, she lets the robe fall off her shoulders, baring herself like they are, and walks around the bed to curl up on the right side of Alex. John takes the left, and they each drape an arm over his sleeping form.

John loves the warmth emanating from Alexander, who is too often cold, and he loves the way Eliza’s fingers find his cheek in the darkness, trace something he recognizes as a heart over the skin there. He loves the quiet sigh one of them releases, and he loves that he can’t tell which one it was.

Alex and Eliza, Eliza and Alex. John loves them.


End file.
